Beauty, Midnight, Vision Dies
by Jennie
Summary: With four words, he ruins it all. GregSara.
1. Chapter 1: Threads

**Title: **Beauty, Midnight, Vision Dies

**Author:** Jennie/Jen/Alethia

**Characters:** Greg, Sara

**Rating:** PG-13

**Disclaimer:** The characters are not mine. Wouldn't ever dream of claiming otherwise.

**Summary:** With four words, he ruins it.

**AN:** This is…different. Very introspective, very doubting and in a style I haven't written in for months. Consider this practice to get back into the 'grooves' of the style and it's full of cynicism. Just be open while reading this, please.

_Beauty, midnight, vision dies:  
Let the winds of dawn that blow  
Softly round your dreaming head  
Such a day of welcome show  
Eye and knocking heart may bless,  
Find our mortal world enough;  
Noons of dryness find you fed  
By the involuntary powers,  
Nights of insult let you pass  
Watched by every human love._

-"Lullaby" by W. H. Auden

**Chapter 1:** Threads.

_Chains do not hold a marriage together. It is threads, hundreds of tiny threads which sew people together through the years._" -Simone Signoret

He ruined it.

In four little words- no more than a syllable each- he had ruined their relationship. She had been _happy_. She had been content. She had thought they were going somewhere good together.

She had let herself be fooled.

She hates herself for it.

Furiously blinking back tears, she glances at her distraught reflection in the mirror. She looks _horrible_. Her hair is now a mess, her eyes are red, her cheeks are salty with dried tears. Regardless of the very nice- and very expensive- gown, she appears haggard. And she feels awful. She had let him in behid her defenses. She had honestly been looking forwards to the evening that night- to the hope of something _more_ happening between them. She had opened up-

And he had stomped on her hopes and feelings.

Apparently, they aren't on the same page as she had originally thought.

Sniffing again, she dabs at her eyes. She knows she had to go back out there and face him- and the entire restaurant. Chuckling slightly, she shakes her head in embarrassment. Standing up with such force to knock over your chair, tripping over your gown in haste to get to the restroom and accidentally running into a waiter laden with entrees for the poor souls who ended up wearing their meals when you plowed down the poor server- not the best way to end a meal, especially in one of Vegas' more lavish restaurants. She can only imagine the scene she made.

And he just sat there, a look of shock on his face.

She almost feels sorry for him. But...damn it, it is his fault! He had forced her hand- he had destroyed their precious moment.

She isn't sure if she wants to forgive him.

She isn't sure if she _can_ forgive him.

"Sara?" A quiet knock sounds on the door.

_Great_. He has apparently come to find her. Which isn't really surprising, she admits, just that she really doesn't want to be around him at the moment. She has just managed to pull herself together- and she doesn't want a relapse of the bumbling woman she had been minutes earlier.

"Sara, I'm coming in now."

The handle turns slightly and she feels like jumping in front of it, before rejecting the childish desire. She has already made fool of herself enough tonight. The door opens a crack at first, before opening fully. His face is full of concern, as he steps into the frilly and pink ladies room. "Are you all right," he asks, reaching out to her. She fights the urge to shy away, accepting his hand. It's warm and his grip is strong on her wrist. His fingers glide over the pulse in her wrist and she inadvertently shivers.

"I'm fine," she finally says, removing her hand from his. His eyes narrow and she knows that he doesn't believe her. "Really," she tries again, "I'm fine." When he opens his mouth to reply, she hurries to continue, cutting him off before he can speak. "Look, okay, I admit it- I'm not _fine_- but I will be. Seriously. Just...give me a minute, okay?"

His gaze bores into her and she knows he's trying to read her. She also knows that after a year of being in a relationship with another, he's gotten very good at it. It's pointless to resist.

"All right," he finally says, breaking their locked gaze. "Just...you want to go?" He nods towards the door leading out to the restaurant. "I've already paid and explained...we're free to leave when you want."

She fights back a comment about him 'explaining'- she can only guess what he might have said- and instead concentrates on the offer to leave. She's more than ready to get out of the confining restaurant and put the entire night behind her.

_If you can_, an annoying voice in her head reminds her.

Oh. Right. Because he _did_ change everything and he _is_ waiting for an answer and he _won't_ let her brush it off. Not something as important- or as devastating- as this.

He asked her to marry him.

She wonders what he did with the ring. Is it now in his pocket? Did he just leave it on the table? Will he return it? Will he give it- she almost chokes on the thought- to someone else?

_Why do I even _care

She's angry at herself.

She's angry at herself for getting worked up and leading him on and making a fool of herself and for being damaged and for not accepting. Because, deep down, she _wants_ to. Damn it, being married to him would be great. Except...

She can't.

She can't marry him. _Especially_ not him, because she doesn't want to break his heart. And she will. She most undoubtedly will.

Bile rises in her throat and her eyes begin to burn and she's close to breaking down- _again_- and she doesn't want to and oh God, he's noticed and _no, no, no, don't hold me, don't make me cry...don't let me make _you _cry..._

But he still brings her into his embrace and after a fleeting second of fighting it, she relaxes. He's her rock, her bearing, her protector- she can't bring herself to wrench away and refuse him. Not like this, not now.

Not after she refused their future.

"Let's go," he whispers into her ear, and he guides them out of the restroom, out of the restaurant.

* * *

They're quiet on the way home. The silence is tangible as he drives with one hand, the other hand gripping hers like a vice. She wants to know what he's thinking- what he's _feeling_. Is he feeling as betrayed as she was earlier? Or has he simply accepted her answer- or lack of one- with grace- or indifference? Do they still have a chance? Or has he truly ruined them, the way she earlier dreaded?

She hates being uncertain. Hates, hates, _hates_ it. And yet, with him- she can never be completely sure. It was something that drew them together in the beginning- his flippant and surprising behavior that appealed to her strict and orderly ways. And while she has worked on opening up and just..._living_, without any heavy burdens, finally free from the chains of her past- she hasn't succeeded.

She's just realized that she never _has_ been free.

And she realizes she owes him an explanation.

She looks over at his darkened profile. They pass a street lamp and the light illuminates his features- the sandy brown curls, the firm mouth, the tanned skin, the focused eyes. He has a way of morphing from childish and silly to mature and intense within seconds. She recognizes the different skins when he's working a scene, when he's dealing with his own relatives- she met them last Christmas, when he's with friends, when he's with her. Right now, he's staid, and she knows he's carefully processing the night's events. She also knows he's not going to pry or question or _disturb_ her in any way- not for a while at least.

For as well as she knows him, he knows her.

_Can he really know me?_

She's hidden so much away, kept so much to herself that she begins to seriously doubt it. And it's...depressing. _More than depressing_, she adds to herself, bitterly. _Because it means I have basically _no one _who is close enough to me to actually _know _me._

Right then and there, she decides that she must change it.

_But _can _I? _

_Can I really let him in completely?_

_Can I risk _everything _for him?_

Yes.

Damn it, _yes_.

She _has_ to.

She _needs_ to.

She _wants_ to.

So she takes the first step. Taking a deep breath, she shatters the silence. "Greg?"

At first he doesn't answer and she wonders if she only imagined speaking. But after a few tenuous moments of silence, he speaks. Or really acknowledges her, because 'hmm' doesn't really count as actually speaking.

"Hmm?" His eyes are still trained on the road, but he does squeeze her hand and she feels a wave of reassurance wash over her. He _hasn't_ closed her out (_like you do to him?_) and it's liberating.

"I..." However, actually bringing the words out is another matter. She swallows; tries again. "I- we need to talk."

"Yes, we do," he replies, his voice cool, his gaze still straight ahead. She knows that he's driving and while it is wise to keep his eyes on the road (their job is proof of that), she still wishes for him to actually _look_ at her- face her. She can't discern his tone, which irks her. Which _worries_ her.

But before she can bring herself to reply, to somehow dissipate the icy air she feels swathing her, he turns into the parking lot of her building. The rest of the 'ride' is in silence, as he parks and gets out and moves to help her out of the car- though she's already managed well enough on her own. While her skirt is awkward, she's also capable of getting out of a car by herself and she feels like sniping to Greg, before deciding that rocking the tenuous precipice of their relationship at the moment would _not_ be a good idea.

It's only after they've gotten inside and he removes his jacket, loosening his tie and undoing the first couple of buttons on his shirt that she feels she can begin again. This ill air between them... She just wants to _banish_ it and be rid of it and not have to worry-

"Shouldn't you get changed?" He cuts in her thoughts.

And all practicality flies from her mind. "No," she snaps. "This is fine."

The slight raise to his brow belies his seeming surrender, but he says nothing. "We need to talk- and talk _now_," she presses on. And without thinking, she continues. "You just _ruined_ it, Greg."

And _this_ gets a rise out of him.

"_Ruined_ it? Sara, I asked you to _marry_ me. Most people wouldn't say that's ruining a relationship." His eyes flare but he holds his stance. "I'm sorry if it somehow offended you, but I _love_ you. And I wanted- _want_- to spend the rest of our lives together."

"But that doesn't mean we have to get married!" She cries out. "Why can't we just continue on as we have been? This last year..." she pauses, catching his eye, "it's been great. It truly has been, Greg. And I _do_ want to spend the rest of my life with you. I just..._can't_ get married."

She hopes that he'll just accept it, but deep down she knows better. And...she's glad. Because though she can't possibly bring up the courage to confess on her own, she knows that with his careful and targeted words, she won't be able to hold up- not after _this_ evening.

She'll finally be able to come clean.

"Why not?" He crosses his arms, watching her. "Why can't you get married, Sara? You already said you wanted to spend your life with me. What else is marriage besides that? All it is making our love legal-"

"Isn't it legal already?" She interrupts. "What else is the point of marriage, except a pathetic 'legalization' and blessing? Why do we need someone to tell us what we already know? What's the point of spending thousands of dollars on an event that only happens once? Why must we conform to society, when we already experience the truth in our hears- in our souls?" Sighing, she looks away, tears glistening in the corners of her eyes. "_Why does marriage matter so much_?"

Quiet.

She's managed to stump him, make him a loss for words. The man, who almost _always_ has something to say, can't put two words together in a sentence. It's almost funny, in a weird, unconventional way. Yet instead of being amused, she feels crushed- as if it was a test and he just failed it.

_Did he?_

The pesky voice in her head again.

_Wonderful. Just what I need- my own _mind _betraying me_.

Finally, he pulls himself together. It's a physical change as well, she observes. He squares his shoulders, stands tall. He scrutinizes her. "I don't know" finally comes from him. "I don't know, Sara." And for a miniscule moment, she wonders if he'll actually give in. Seconds later, he proves her wrong, as he continues. "Marriage is a civic institution, yes. But it's also much more, darling. Much, much more. I _love_ you, and I want everyone to know that."

"And I love you. But there's no reason to get married- many other couples don't get married and _they're_ doing fine. _They_ don't need this pointless reassurance."

"And we're not many couples, Sara." His voice is quiet, soothing. She feels it wash over her like the tide at dawn she used to watch as a child; comforting and consoling. "We're _us_. We're what we make ourselves to be. We make our lives as we wish them to be. We're not _fated_ or preordained to be anything. We're...just there. Placed on this earth to maybe do something with ourselves, maybe make a bit of a difference. We're only a ripple in the grand scheme or things. And...I want to marry you. I want to show the world that we're truly more than just two ripples- that we have a purpose, a meaning, a chance to _do_ something great."

"And you think getting married is 'doing something great'?" She asks skeptically. "You thing getting married will change something? Prove something?"

His voice is calm yet potent. "I know it will- if only to prove that we have the strength to stay together."

"Because so many marriages fail," she adds bitterly.

"Yes." He squeezes her hands. "Yes, because we're going against the odds. Because we're showing the world that we have what it takes to stay together- forever. Because we're not just going to stay a ripple, but become an actual wave. Because _we're worth it_."

"That's what everyone thinks," she finally says, removing her hands from his. "That's why so many people get married. And that's why so many fail- because marriage- it's just an illusion. It's just a wish to attain something- to _become_ something impossible." She steps away, turning her back to him. She hugs herself, focusing on the past, ignoring the present, refusing the future. "You get married, because you think it will make a difference. Because you've found the right person. Because you think you actually have a chance. And then, after a while, may it be days, weeks, months- even years- you realize that the original foundation is gone. You're different, he's different. He wants this, you want that. Maybe he's found someone else. Maybe you have. Maybe he realized that it really wasn't such a good idea. Maybe _you_ did. But whatever the reason may be- you're stuck. You're stuck for eternity in this...this _cycle_ and you can't get out. You want to, but you can't. You can't free yourself, because it takes two and you've been blessed and everyone's so happy- everyone except the two of you- and you can't face it. So finally you either resign yourself to this unhappy eternal union or you end it- and thus ruin it all. Because that's all you've ever done in life- cause problems, ruin your future and everyone else's. You realize that you're never meant to be happy, that you don't _deserve_ to be happy or content. And so you continue to live your life, but you _don't_ cause ripples or waves or bring attention upon yourself. You just...exist. And you pray that you never end up hurting anyone again."

She finishes in a rush of breath, not daring to face him, knowing that if she does, she'll break down. She's so fragile at the moment, that the tiniest prod will break her. She'll collapse into shards of what once was a person and she'll _never_ be able to repair herself. Because- because all the hurt and damage that she's ever caused will envelope her and control her and it'll down her in despair. She'll...cease to exist.

It's payback for everything that she's done.

And she deserves it.

But she forgets that _he's_ there and that _he'll_ protect her and that _he'll_ save her from herself.

He's always been her savior.

His arms wrap around her, pulling her into him. His embrace is protective, consoling, loving. His breath is warm against her neck and she feels her body loosening, opening itself up to him, regardless of the turmoil her mind is in. The tears flow freely now, coating her cheeks. "Shh," he whispers, "shh." He rubs her arms. "It's okay, it's okay. I'm here, Sara." She takes deep breaths, trying to calm herself down and eventually she succeeds.

He rocks her, saying lightly to a melody only he can hear. She longs for time to just stop- for them to stay frozen in this moment, where she can put her fears and failures behind her and just concentrate on _him_, on _them_. She loves him with her entire being, but she's also afraid, so very afraid. This...

_It can't last_.

And without the binds of a marriage, perhaps it won't hurt so much when one day it ends.

_Perhaps_.

She stiffens unconsciously and he immediately reacts. His grip tightens and he leans in towards her ear. "Talk to me, Sara. Tell me why."

And maybe...maybe she can. Maybe not someday, but _tonight._ Now. This moment, while his arms are wrapped around her and he shields her from any imminent harm. So she takes a deep breath- and another one- and another one, until she's filled with air and filled with desperation and a _need_ to let it- and everything else- out.

Tensing, dreading, yet yearning for repose, she finally speaks.

"When I was at Harvard, I got married..."


	2. Chapter 2: Lying Away

**AN**: Sorry for the wait…hopefully won't happen again. I apologize for the rather large flashback in this chapter- no other way seemed to fit. And I did a bit of planning on this and I suspect that there will be two more chapters after this.

Thanks for the reviews.

**Chapter 2**: Lying Away

"_The past is not a package one can lay away."- Emily Dickinson_

They both sit on her couch now. The tension hasn't necessarily receded, but it's easier to manage now. She finally has changed from her gown into pajamas, as has he, and with his comforting arm around her waist, she feels a bit stronger, a bit more able to face the world- the past.

The past.

Funny how something you think is gone, something you've already gotten through, tends to rear its ugly head at what should be the best moment in your life.

_Should be_.

Because, let's face it, having your boyfriend propose to you _should_ be amazing, wonderful, a whole list of adjectives that express superlatives of positive feeling. But...it's not. More like it's horrifying and scary and terrible and a whole list of adjectives that express superlatives of negative feeling.

She doesn't deserve it.

She doesn't deserve _him_.

Because, face it, she's just going to screw it up- like she's screwed up everything else.

_It's not fair..._

What is?

What _is_ fair in life?

Nothing. Absolutely, positively _nothing_ is fair in life.

Doesn't mean you have to be happy about it, though...

He's staring at her concernedly and she realizes that, once again, she's gotten lost in her thoughts. It's been happening more and more often, she notices. Maybe because she's so _afraid_ of the future and fate and all that messy stuff she'd rather not think of. Because she knows that it's not going to end well- it never does. And so when things _should_ be going great, and she _should_ be ridiculously happy like a woman who, well, just had her boyfriend propose to her- she's not.

And she never will be.

It rather sucks.

The brown cardboard box she took from the back of the highest shelf in her closet is now sitting in front of them, a pulsing reminder of the chasm between them. It's just a box. Cardboard, tattered, not that heavy. It's _stupid_ that she's afraid of it.

But she is.

She's _terrified_ of it- of what it contains.

_Her past..._

She's never been able to escape it.

First, it comes up on the job. How she does _ache_ for the wronged children, the abused families that they wrong across? It's a punch to the gut, a fist in the mirror of her past. Second, whenever she receives one of those few, seldom, far-in-between calls from her brother, she's reminded. Third, just _looking_ into a mirror reminds her- because she is a creation of her past- isn't she?

Isn't everyone?

But...

Now it's worse. Because now- now there's a _fourth_ reason she's forever reminded of her torturous past.

_Him_.

Greg.

Her...fiancé?

...Can she call him that?

Is she allowed to?

He- he offered her the ring, and she knows that he meant it. In his eyes, he feels that they're ready for it all- ready for marriage, ready for love and the future- and the past, because the past, no matter what you want to think, is _always_ casting a shadow on the future. It's our past that makes us, right? It's our past that shapes us and while Greg has had a decent past and a nice and welcoming family, she...she's never had that.

She never will.

"This...this box," she finally whispers, "it's all the reminders I have of my childhood and time at Harvard. I didn't keep very much," her face twists into a wry smile. "I didn't _want_ to. But..." she stops, takes a breath, "now I have to face it..."

He says nothing and she is infinitely thankful.

He understands her.

He _loves_ her.

It's just what she needs, isn't it?

If only she can allow herself...

Bad people- people like her- they're not meant to be happy. She's learned that by now. And while yes, the last months with him have been wonderful- it has to end sometime, doesn't it? Somehow, somewhere, sometime...

_Somewhere there's a place for us..._

The familiar- and haunting- melody plays in her head. She always loved the musical, though she had no real musical ability herself.

"Sara?" His voice is quiet in her ear, his hand rubs her back, his entire presence _soothes_ her...

But it also wakes her from her reminiscing, reminding her that there _is_ a purpose to this...

"Sorry- I'm just having a hard time..._dealing_ with this," she finally decides on the words.

"I'm here for you."

His words are simple. Four words, four syllables. Very similar to the four words he asked her previously, but with an infinitely different meaning.

Instead of scaring her, these lull her.

She can trust him.

It has taken her awhile to get to this point- but finally, she can trust him.

It is a security blanket for her.

"I know." Her voice catches in her throat and she fights back tears. "Oh Greg, I _know_."

And she reaches into the box.

* * *

It's a photo she takes out, in a gilded silver frame. A couple, smiling for the camera, dressed in wedding finery. Only after examining them for a few minutes could you notice the fact the smiles were rather forced, and that both parties seemed a bit...uneasy about their new union.

_Uneasy is an understatement_.

"I suppose...I should start at the beginning."

And with Greg's comforting hand on her back, his other hand clutching hers, and his gentle smile- she feels she has the strength to begin.

"It was my first week at Harvard. And during the first session of my English Composition class, this guy comes dashing into the room right before the lesson started and asked to sit down next to me..."

_"May I sit here?" He flashes a grin and Sara can't help but nod her head and scoots over a smidgen. He's good-looking, not that it really matters, with straight black hair cut neatly and green eyes. She's never seen him before, but isn't this what College is about? After the lesson, he asks her name, where she's from and if she'd like to be in a study group with him._

_She agrees._

_His name is Max- Maxwell Dayes- and he's funny and charming and he's different than all the other boys she's ever met- in high school or out of it. He isn't too thrilled with sports, he's studying to be a doctor, he hates cats but loves dogs and he's very smart. At the study groups, he's got a quick eye and ear, retains information easily and makes everyone laugh._

_He asks her out. It's been a couple of weeks and she's gotten to know him and while she's surprised that he'd ask _her _out- she accepts. Lacey, her roommate, is thrilled, squealing about how wonderful Max is and how _lucky _she is and does she know anything about the Dayes family? And oh, to be _dating _one of them..._ _She has been clueless. And when they go out later that night, him wearing chinos and a nice shirt and she in an expensive dress Lacey has let her borrow, she looks for signs. The way he carries himself, the way he treats her as a woman, the way he orders at the restaurant- it all makes sense now._

_It doesn't matter to her._

_He's simply Max, the man she thinks she's falling in love with. _

_One day, they're sitting on a picnic blanket under leafy trees and he brings up his family. His cousin had a baby and would she like to come visit? She pleads out, citing an important project due soon, which she really needs to start on. And it's true- she really _is _busy that weekend. He smiles at her and shakes his head and states that if she can't come and meet his family in person, then he'll just have to tell her about them._

_She learns about his brother Zack, who just graduated law school and is now currently walking in his grandfather's law firm. There's Dan, who's a Junior in High School and captain of the Debate Team, and star of the swim team. He has a sister, Marian, who's currently spending her senior year of College in Paris. She's an art major and works part time at the Louvre for experience and is engaged to a man she met there, Etienne. His mother is simply a house-wife, though she's known in their 'circles' as a talented events planner. She sits on different committees and various charities. His father is a lawyer, at the same firm as his grandfather and brother._

_She likes learning of his family. It's a different world than what she's used to- living in the system. It's a gateway into another world, really. So she listens attentively when he speaks of his cousin, Christina, who had the baby, and his grandparents and another cousin of his, Jake, who lives in London and was his childhood best friend until he moved there. She can even forget about her _own _family, when learning about his._

_That is, until he actually asks her._

_She's frozen in fear when he turns to her and inquires about her parents and family._

_"They're dead," she finally says, for her father _truly _is dead and her mother is dead to her. The wound has just barely closed- after five years in the foster care system, she's finally _making _something of herself and can begin to forget her origins. But he's asking her about their deaths and it's like pulling off a newly formed scab- hurts as much, too- and she decides that it would just be best if she lied, because does it really even matter?_

_"They died in an accident."_

_"I'm sorry," he says, and she can see in his eyes that he truly _is _sorry and this hurts even more. Because she hates lying, especially to those she loves (the very few, that is) and she knows that this isn't some little lie- this is a large one. This one won't just go away in time, like lying to Lacey about her shoes the other night (Lacey may be able to pull off almost anything- but turquoise heels aren't one of them). This one _matters

_She has no choice. _

_"Do you have any other family," he asks, taking a sip of the water he's packed. He always drinks water. It's a little quirk of his that she likes to tease him about, because he always pushes her to order other things to drink when they go out, while he stays with his water. _

_She decides that she shouldn't lie anymore. "A brother," she confesses, her eyes downcast. "But we aren't close- he left after my parents...died. And an aunt and uncle."_

_"That's nice," he replies, and she can tell that he's only really just _trying _to be sympathetic and can't think of anything else to say._

_She doesn't blame him._

_The weeks go on and months pass and it's now nearing Christmas, when the unexpected happens. They've been dating since the middle of October and it's their two-month anniversary. He's making a big deal out of it, claiming that two months is special and that they're going to go somewhere very elegant and does she need to go shopping for the appropriate dress and jewelry? She claims that she doesn't need anything- but one day when coming out of her math course, Lacey grabs her and spirits her away to shop, saying that Max had filled her in on the evening and Sara really does need to look absolutely _gorgeous_- not that she already isn't- and like it or not, they're going shopping._

_Lacey pays for everything, refusing to take any cash from Sara. She says that Max covered it all and Sara should just sit back and relax and let the salon do the work to her face and hair. They've already gotten a gown and the shoes and the purse- Lacey claims that every formal dress has to have a matching purse and Sara is too bewildered to argue- and somehow she allowed Lacey to maneuver her into a beauty salon. She feels ridiculous on one hand, but also like a princess. This isn't..._Sara_, she decides, but it's fun to dress up and play the role for a night._

_She doesn't realize what the night entails._

_It's an expensive restaurant and she feels a bit uncomfortable. But Max seems so at home in it and she doesn't want to disturb him. She really does care for him, and she's committed herself to making this work. It isn't until he gets down on his knees at the end of the meal that she has any inkling that he's been planning something more..._

_He asks her to marry him._

_Without thinking, she agrees._

_It isn't until months later that she wonders what would have happened, had she actually thought about it first. Would she still have said yes? She did believe at the time that she loved him. But there is more to a marriage than love, and at the time, she just wasn't...thinking clearly._

_She was even more stupid when he decided that he wanted to get married as soon as possible, so that she could home with him as his wife- and she agreed._

_Hindsight's twenty/twenty after all, and her eyes at the time were clouded by what seemed to be love._

_She highly doubts that she was ever in love with him- but now it's too late._

_By the time she accepted his proposal, it was too late._

_It took them a week to make plans. They were both of legal age and he asked John, a friend of his, to be best-man. Lacey was her maid-of-honor, they had the school minister officiate. At the time, she still had the Roman Catholic roots she had been brought up with- both her parents had been devout Catholics (which made their situation even stranger)- and he was protestant, but didn't mind marrying in the Catholic church. There was no time for the normal pomp and circumstance, they simply showed up at the Chapel one evening after Mass and requested that they be married right then and there. She did wear white and he was in a suit, but the photograph was taken by an Altar boy and the certificate was signed Lacey and John as witnesses. _

_She is now Sara Michelle Dayes._

_Surprisingly, she isn't as happy as she should be._

_They don't have a honeymoon- there's only a week left of classes until Christmas Break, anyway. She moves into his apartment (he has his own) and tries to... be a wife- though she's not very certain what it means. They're both busy that last week and are unable to come up with a routine for their new life together. Sometimes she wonders if that's why they failed- because they lacked the foundation then. Then she decides that they lacked the foundation of their _relationship_- that they never should have married in the first place._

_It's too late to do anything now. _

_They climb in his car after they finish on Friday and they drive to his parents'. It's a sprawling mansion, gorgeous, tasteful, and completely out of her league. He senses her hesitation and squeezes her hand, whispering in her ear that his family will love her and she needn't worry- they're _married.

_He's wrong._

_His family is pleasant to her, but the warmth she craves is noticeably absent. She just doesn't seem to fit in with them... His mother, Laura (and she almost laughs at the irony of it), is miffed that she missed out on seeing her son marry- and on planning the event. Richard takes it in stride, but pretty much ignores her. Marian mentions how she was _sure _that Max was going to marry Elizabeth, his girlfriend throughout high school. And why, Elizabeth is even going to be visiting for Christmas and she was almost hoping that Max and Liz would rekindle their romance- there really _was _no reason to break it off, when Liz went to Smith and Max to Harvard._

_Sara tries to avoid Marian for the rest of her stay._

_Dan's pleasant enough to her, but he's caught up in his high-school life and spends his time either with friends or up in his room. Zack's a bit standoffish, though Sara thinks that it's probably just his personality- and he's not trying to be that way to her. The grandparents are in Italy- at least one set is- and the other set is in London, visiting Jake. Christina, the new mother, is also visiting Jake (he's her brother) and the rest of the extended family is also scattered about and while yes, Christmas with the Dayes family is grand and luxurious, it really doesn't seem to..._fit _Sara._

_Her discomfort rises by the minute._

_When she begins to throw up on Christmas Day, things take a turn for the worst._

_She's miserable. Max tries to be comforting, but he's distracted by his family and she tells him to leave her be- that she'll manage on her own. She wants to go back to Harvard, she wants to talk to Lacey, she wants to do _something _to relieve the nausea. _

_She sleeps through most of the festivities, and it isn't until evening that she feels a bit better and decides to get up. She meanders through the hallways, until she ends up in the living room with the rest of the family._

_Family. For the first time in years, she finally has a family._

_Pity that they don't really seem to care for her._

_She seeks out Max, noticing him on the loveseat, laughing. There's a woman next to him, a pretty blonde, who is in conversation with Marian and Sara just _knows _that this must be the 'Liz' everyone seems to be crazy about._

_She vomits on the floor._

_In an instant, Max is at her side and leading her towards a free chair. He's concerned- she can see it on his face- and this makes her feel even worse. She isn't used to having people truly care about her. Even Laura and Richard are asking about her health, and while some maid clears away the vomit, Marian has retrieved a blanket and drapes it over her._

_Perhaps the family isn't as aloof as she thought._

_She begins to hope._

_"I'm Elizabeth Carter." Elizabeth is suddenly standing in front of her._

_Max intervenes. "This is Sara, Liz." _

_It hurts that he didn't call her his wife. _

_"Hi," she says weakly. _

_"You know, you remind me of someone..." Liz studies her. "You just got sick today, right? And while you're not throwing up- how do you feel?"_

_"Sick."_

_Liz has a tittering laugh and Sara is reminded of nails on a chalkboard. "Of _course_. But I mean- you were feeling better earlier, right? And it's not food poisoning, because everyone else is perfectly fine. So it has to just be you."_

_"And..." Max again. "Come on, Liz. It's just the stomach bug."_

_"No, I don't think so," Liz turns to address Laura. "I think Sara's got what Megan had last year." _

_This apparently means something to everyone else and Sara is- once again- left out. Max has gone white, Dan rolls his eyes, Zack chuckles and Laura has her smile _painted _on. "I'm sure you're wrong, Elizabeth. It can't possibly be-"_

_"Well, at least _ask _her," Liz retorts. "Sara, is there a chance you might be _pregnant

_Damn._


	3. Chapter 3: The Brightest Day

**AN:** I'm sorry for taking this long. Finishing high school, getting ready for Uni, having an extremely crazy summer- a summer I _thought_ I could spend writing- I just couldn't get to this chapter until now. But it's here now and it's also the final chapter. There _will_ be an epilogue (I think, at least), but still… this is the last main chapter and I hope you enjoy it.**  
**

**Chapter 3: The Brightest Day**

_The brightest day that ever I saw,_

_coming for to carry me home, _

_when Jesus washed my sins away,_

_coming for to carry me home._

- "Swing Low, Sweet Chariot"

He technically has a right to ask questions. They are together, after all, and since she has finally revealed a union he previously had no idea of, it would be quite normal for him to ask about it.

But he doesn't, and it makes her love him even more.

He _knows_ her.

He _gets_ her.

He doesn't rush her, force her, take away any freedoms. He just sits silently and patiently, waiting for her to continue at her own pace.

She traces the glass with her fingers, outlining the figures. His arm around her, his comforting breath in her ear- she feels empowered, able to go on.

"I wasn't," she whispers, her fingers stopping on her smiling face- _forced _smile, it's so obvious now- was that marriage _ever_ really valid? "It was probably the scariest experience of my life. I don't know what a baby would have done to us, to the marriage. Kept us together, probably. But...for how long? And it- well," she bites her lip, "it really wouldn't have been _living_, a _real_ marriage. The entire...experience- it just seems like a dream. _Seemed_ like a dream, even then. He was my white knight, rescuing me from a life of squalor, bringing me into a life of riches...and then the fairy tale shattered."

Tears begin to form in her eyes, and she takes a few breaths, matching her own breathing to his. She _needs_ some conformity now, some comfort, _love_.

She never really experienced it before.

"Liz was so _sure_, and then Laura and Marian caught on, and I just stood there _frozen_, unable to protest. They called the doctor, and he came and examined me and I felt so..." she hesitates, searching for the right word, "not really _violated_, but still uncomfortable. I guess I felt as if the baby wasn't ever really _mine._ But then he took blood and examined my urine and declared that I was just "out of sorts", under stress and that I should take it easy for a few days and I'd be good as new. No baby on the way for me.

"Their faces...it was as if it was suddenly my fault that I wasn't pregnant. Like I had paid the doctor to say it, that I didn't _want_ the child. And...no, I didn't- but it wasn't my fault- it was out of my control! _Liz_ was the one who started it, who put the idea in everyone's mind...and it almost felt like a betrayal, on my part. That I had purposefully betrayed them by marrying Max, but then not getting pregnant right away..."

The memories stab at her, they pierce her skin like shards of glass. The way Marian refused to be alone with her, to acknowledge her unless it was absolutely necessary. Laura purposefully bringing up her family, as if she wasn't _worthy_ to be married to Max- the way Laura kept on bringing up grandchildren and how nice it would have been to have a grandchild under the Christmas tree the next year...

She wanted to get on a plane, return to Harvard. Spend Christmas in the dorms, alone with only the snow for company. Attend Mass at the chapel, reflect on the last year, think about her future- not as Sara Dayes, but as Sara herself.

But she couldn't.

And...she couldn't force Max away from his family, not at _Christmas_.

Was it wrong that a large part of her just wanted to return _without_ him? Go back alone?

_Yes._

He was her _husband_.

She couldn't _abandon_ him. They had made sacred vows, she couldn't ignore them, cast them away.

No matter how much she wanted to that Christmas.

Greg's whispering to her, calming her down. She doesn't realize that she's begun to sob, her face wet and red with tears. The past...is past. It should be left behind. But somehow, no matter how hard she tries- she never quite manages to leave it locked away. It always ends up coming out, throwing her life into disarray.

She's so exhausted.

She doesn't want to fight it anymore, she doesn't want to pretend.

_You wouldn't have to, with Greg. He accepts you, he doesn't want you to change_.

But accepting Greg- _marrying_ him- that would just set her up for heartbreak again, wouldn't it? Marriage is supposed to be for eternity. And she's already proved that the sanctity doesn't really mean anything, when put into practice. The sanctity, the sacred act- it's just for show, because it's so easy to break...

"We lasted till March, until I got up the nerve to tell him to forget the façade- and not to worry about it. I spent the rest of the holiday sitting in the background, just watching the rest of the family interact. And while Max _did_ give an effort to be nice to me, to help me out, to be a _husband_- I could tell that his heart- and mine- just weren't in it. We were unsure of ourselves, unsure of how to act, how to be affectionate, how to be married. And then I'd watch him with Liz, and he was just so _natural_ with her, like he used to be with me, before we got married, except that it went the extra distance. He'd do little things, like place his hand at her back, or move a lock of hair, or touch her hand, or lean towards her for no apparent reason..."

And there it hits her. This affection Max had for Liz- the way he cared for her, watched over her, seemed to _get_ her- she's had it herself. She's had it for the last months, with Greg. That fairy tale existence she _thought_ she'd get with Max, before her hopes were dashed- she _got_ it. She _was _the fairy tale princess rescued from squalor, rescued by her white knight who grabbed her up and saved her and taught her to love and live again.

It's just more...metaphorical now. Life itself has turned from being so black and white to being a nice pasty shade of grey. Things _do_ make sense- just not on the level- or dimension, really- that she thought they did.

His arms are cradling her, his head is next to hers, his form is protecting hers from the emotional effects the picture had on her. He's what she always wanted, what she had, but did not realize she had.

It's...enlightening.

It's a weight off her shoulders, a piece breaking off from the dam that holds in her emotions.

It's her undoing, but in the best way possible.

Because, for the first time, she thinks that it might, just might, actually _work_.

She has a chance.

A chance to move on, to be brought home- to what home really is- a place where your loved-ones are. A place she never had, before now.

And with this knowledge, she feels she can go on, safe in his arms, safe at _home_.

"It was so _obvious_ that Marian was right- that Max really did belong with Liz. I wasn't bitter, I think I understood... he didn't expect to see her again, he thought he should make a fresh start. And I do know that on a certain level, he did care for me. Not as a wife, no, but at least as a friend. But after returning to school, and going through the motions of being married, and with that horrible Christmas at the back of our minds...I- _we_ couldn't take it anymore. It's not easy, getting a marriage annulled in the Church- but as we explained to the priest, the reason we wanted the annulment was because neither of us really _understood_ marriage- what marriage should be. And with little trouble, by April we were both separate parties again, both by law and by the Church."

She takes a breath, but she knows that this part is going to be easy, because it's just stating facts. And she's always been good at stating facts. "We ran into each other several times at Harvard, but were nothing more than friends. After we both graduated, we never saw each other afterwards. I put the marriage- and relationship, if it could be called that- behind me, locked it away in my memories and hid the actual relics away, out of sight. Out of sight, out of mind, I guess, and I really haven't thought much about him in the last fifteen years."

"Until now." He finally intercedes, curling her fingers within his.

"Until now," she adds, enjoying the feeling.

They sit in comfortable silence, letting their thoughts settle, taking time to mull over the evening's events.

However, finally, he stirs, his arms still around her, his chin resting on her head.

"What now," he asks, his voice quiet, careful not to wake the undead.

"What now", she whispers in agreement. It's a good question, with all that went on that night. And the old Sara would have taken up the argument again, refusing. She wasn't ready to get married again, to let someone else into her heart, to her soul. She never would be, ever the pity, and she would miss out on an entire lifetime of happiness, and family, and _love_.

But this Sara...she's not as closed. She's not exactly _looking_ for change, to open up once again. But she's not quite so against it and she's willing to give it a chance- to give it time.

And time's all this relationship really needs, right?

Time for her to forgive herself, to close off the chapter in her life. Time to learn to open her heart and mind to another person, and to accept their heart and soul in turn.

So it's with a hesitant, but open heart, that she turns to him, her eyes locking with his, as she gives her answer.

"Time, Greg. Time to adjust, to learn, to open up. And then we'll see what the future might bring."


End file.
